Code Name: Azumanga Daioh!
by evie vie
Summary: Our heroines in a tale of international espionage! Finally an update, but it's only a preview of Chapter 7, in which our heroines get their spy education on. Who's teaching them? So very much not Yukari. I'll finish the chapter shortly...
1. International Woman of Mystery

_LYON, France – Lyon-Saint Exupery Airport_

"Takino. Tomo Takino."

The Air France flight attendant looked at the Japanese girl in the black jumpsuit with the zipper down the front, which was undone to an almost indecent point. It didn't fit her well. The jumpsuit was made for someone with curves. And cleavage. The grinning girl with the briefcase, striking what she probably thought was a sexy pose, had neither.

He sighed. "Mademoiselle, we don't need your name. We just need your boarding pass."

Grumbling, the international woman of mystery handed over her boarding pass and headed down the ramp to flight 765 to Tokyo. She was irritated. Not only was she flying coach, but they hadn't even asked to see her badge.

* * *

She'd been with Interpol for six months now, working at headquarters in Lyon, speaking awkward French and handling paperwork. It wasn't the dream job she thought it would be. She'd nearly gone through the roof with glee when her boss had called her into his office that day. 

In the usual way. "TAKINOOOOOO!"

She stuck her head into her superior's office. "Let me guess. I'm off the case?"

"You're not even ON a case right now." Captain Fujiwara sighed. His higher-ups in the Metropolitan Tokyo Police Department had to be punishing him for something, saddling him with this brat. "If you were, though, you'd probably be off it, after what happened with the Nerima hentai burglaries."

"I caught the thief."

"By running around in your underwear till he attacked you!"

"Hey, it worked." It was true. Officer Takino was, to use the American police cliche, a loose cannon. She played by her own rules. And, for some twisted reason, it usually worked. Although "Takino" and "underwear" were never going to appear in the same thought ever, ever, again. He popped a couple of Saclon stomach pills from the bottle on his desk and allowed himself a nasty mental chuckle. She was going to be someone else's problem for a while.

"I just got this bulletin," he said, pushing the English-language printout across the desk to the officer. "The ICPO is requesting a Japanese agent with 'unconventional policing skills'. Apparently they're putting together an experimental unit - Takino, are you listening to me?"

Tomo's eyes had glazed over. A strange smile had crossed her face. "Interpol..." she breathed.

"That IS what I said. In any case, you know English and some French, and you're completely insane, so you fit the requirements. I'm going to suggest - TAKINO, listen to me!"

Her eyes were still unfocused. "Interpol!"

"Yes, that's what I said. Several times. In any case, you'll need to fill this out. I don't doubt they'll take you, the Superintendent-General has already recommended... TAKINO!"

She finally raised her eyes. They had a crazed look. Oh no. Capt. Fujiwara knew that look. Something very annoying was about to...

"WOOHOO! Interpol! Interpol! ICPO! I did it! I did it! Eeeee, I did it! EEEEEE!" She started hopping around the room. "Finally, finally I did it!" She didn't seem to notice her pogoing had knocked over the coat rack.

Her colleagues glanced at the Captain's office. Through the glass paneling, they could hear the occasional shriek and crash, and watched Takino bouncing around the room while Fujiwara cowered behind his desk. Then they turned back to what they were doing.

Just another normal day at the office.


	2. Getting the Band Back Together, Part 1

On the airplane, Tomo stared out the window at Eurasia passing below her and thought about her new assignment. After six months of pointless paperwork, she'd been called into the office of Liesl Bundig, Assistant Director of Police Services. Director Bundig was small, bespectacled, blonde, and pleasant, and held black belts in various martial arts disciplines. She was, in fact, one of the most dangerous women in Northern Europe, and had been put in charge of the new, unnamed, special intelligence unit.

Tomo was going to be part of that unit, Liesl told her, and would be taking on one of its first assignments. A hostage situation in the South Pacific, she said – the kidnapper and his retinue were Japanese, which is why a Japanese agent would need to head the mission.

Tomo really liked the word "mission."

"There are a hundred and twenty hostages, approximately," Liesl said. "They're on a small tropical island, which was advertised as a resort. It's called Iyaman, about forty miles west of Nomanisan. The hostages are vacationers from seventeen countries – they thought they were getting a cheap vacation and ended up as leverage for the kidnapper's demands."

"Which are?"

"Enough nuclear material for three large bombs," Liesl said grimly. "You see why we can't negotiate. He claims it's not for a weapon, but an 'experiment.'"

"Oooo. An insane genius," Tomo said.

"Well, right now we're just working with 'insane,'" Liesl said. "His – okay, it's a fortress – has been unable to be reached by…normal means. And of course he's threatened to harm the hostages if there's any military intervention. The UN has given us jurisdiction. That's where you come in."

"Hm. Hmmmm…. So should I sneak in, or go in guns blazing?"

The thought of Tomo with a gun made Liesl shiver. "Well, we realized you're not going to be able to do this alone. We've put together suggestions for an international team – "

"I've got a team in mind already," Tomo said. "Civilians, but they've got special talents. They're really good at what they do."

"How – I mean, who are they?" Things were just getting weirder. Who were the members of this crazy team that this crazy cop had pulled together in mere seconds?

Tomo told her.

* * *

"Hmmmm," said Liesl. "The scientist I know of, but – Wait, the swimmer. Wasn't she in the Olympics?" 

"Bronze medalist," Tomo said, smugly. She was radiating pride. "Yep, third place. Not as good as first or second, but still…."

Liesl stared. "What are you so proud of? It's not YOUR bronze medal."

Tomo didn't miss a beat. "So should I go get them?"

Liesl glanced at the list of names. She vaguely recognized the author, too – nominee for a Japanese literary prize? Liesl kept up on a LOT of current events. It was part of her job.

She took another look at Takino's record with the Tokyo Police and the observation Interpol had done on her for the last six months. Takino was brash, annoying, combative, overconfident, and, above all, unconventional. But she seemed to have a knack for solving cases that would baffle a normal officer. The underwear incident, for example. Moronic. And, simultaneously, brilliant.

One thing was clear to Liesl from the case at hand. In the kidnapper, she was dealing with a lunatic. But perhaps the best way to fight lunacy was with lunacy. And with Takino – currently clicking her retractable pen over and over and asking, hopefully, "Does this annoy you?" – she definitely had the lunatic she needed.

"Get them together and meet me in San Francisco in a week," she said.

* * *

Which was why Tomo was now headed from Narita Airport to the financial district. She preened in the cab, then thought for a minute and zipped up her jumpsuit. It wouldn't do to arrive at Yomi's office looking TOO much like a sexy spy. She might give those stodgy financiers some ideas, and then they wouldn't get anything done all day. 

"Koyomi Mizuhara, please," she said at the reception desk. The building was sleek and modern. So was the reception desk. So was the receptionist. She glared at Tomo, and glanced down at the employee list. Mizuhara. Junior analyst, fifteenth floor.

"Is she expecting you?" the receptionist said icily.

"Um," said Tomo. "Yes. Yes, of course she's expecting me. Why wouldn't she be expecting me?"

"Well, then, let me see." She picked up the phone and dialed. "Ms. Mizuhara, your guest is here… What? Oh. I see." She glared at Tomo, again. "Ms. Mizuhara is not expecting any guests."

"Tell her it's Tomo. It won't be a problem," Tomo said confidently.

"Ms. Mizuhara? She says her name is Tomo and… What? Oh. What? No, I can't call security without a reason. Excuse me? No, she's just standing here." A long pause while a familiar voice buzzed angrily at the other end of the line. "All right, I'll send her up." The receptionist looked at Tomo. "Fifteenth floor. And she says if you press all the buttons on the elevator again, she'll have you thrown out of the building."

The fifteenth floor was a network of precise cubicles, in which precise men and women made precise transactions. Tomo wondered which one was Yomi's, but didn't have to worry – her friend was bearing down on her, wearing a severe suit, her trademark glasses, and a furious expression. Wordlessly she grabbed Tomo's arm and dragged her into a tiny office, slamming the door behind them.

"Didn't I tell you NEVER, EVER to come see me at work?" Yomi hissed. Then she regarded her friend. "And aren't you in France? And what's with the jumpsuit? You look like you're going skiing."

"You got an office!" Tomo said cheerfully, throwing herself nonchalantly into a chair. "Wow, that's great! I bet the office ladies are just seething with jealousy to see some girl just out of business school get an office."

"Yeah, Tomo, glad to see you too. Now can you tell me WHAT you are doing here? Quickly, because I want to kick you out as soon as I can."

"Don't you want to hear about France?"

"I KNOW about France. We talk every weekend, remember? And why didn't you say you were coming back? We could have met somewhere. Like my place. Or a restaurant. Somewhere that's NOT my office."

"It's important."

The financial analyst sat at her desk and put her head in her hands. Tomo always thought it was important. "What."

"You know I'm with Interpol, right?"

"You only remind me of that six or seven times every time we talk," Yomi said wearily.

"Well, they've got me doing this thing…"

"What thing?"

Tomo told her.

There was a long, astonished pause. Yomi's astonishment that the ICPO would trust Tomo with any assignment, much less this one, was overtaken by her astonishment that Tomo was asking her to help.

"I can't. Not only is it insane, but I've got a job. A good job. A REALLY good job." She gestured around the minuscule but tastefully decorated room. "They gave me an office. An office! I'm already an analyst and I have an office. I can't give that up."

"It won't take long," said Tomo. "Take vacation. Two weeks. That's all I ask."

"For a SPY MISSION?" Yomi said. She couldn't believe that Tomo was standing in her office and that she, Yomi, had just uttered the words "spy mission" in a somewhat serious manner. In connection with Tomo. This was just too weird, and Yomi knew from weird. "No, this has to be one of your practical jokes." What else could it be?

Tomo opened her briefcase – she was proud of her sleek black briefcase, suitable for an international woman of mystery – and pulled out a letter, which she placed on Yomi's desk. Yomi examined it. An official request for assistance from ICPO Assistant Director Liesl Bundig. The letterhead looked authentic. So did the signature.

So, for a moment, did Tomo. Yomi was taken aback. Was that a sane, serious expression on her friend's face?

"Yomi…" Tomo said hesitantly, not meeting her friend's eyes. "Okay, I'm glad to be in Interpol and all, but they think I'm something I'm not. They think I'm some sort of crimefighting wizard. The truth is, up till now, I've just done the stupid crap I always do, and I've been lucky. Really lucky. This time, I don't know if my luck can hold. Which is why I need you."

"To cover your behind?"

"To keep me from getting killed!" Tomo's emphatic tone and pleading eyes made Yomi do a double-take. "You've always stuck by me, even when I was at my stupidest. You've always been the one who makes sense, and you've always kept me from doing things that would really get me hurt. There are gonna be guns on this assignment, Yomi. Guns. I could get shot. The hostages could get shot. If you're there to keep me from making really stupid mistakes, I might just live through this thing. Maybe I could even get them out."

Yomi had seen Tomo be serious about three times since they met in grade school. This was the fourth.

"I know you're not a policewoman," Tomo continued. "But you don't need to be. I talked to Liesl about you. You just need to go to San Francisco with me, and be yourself. That's what we need you for. It's what I need you for."

Yomi thought about it, but not for long. She was sincerely moved.

"You're my best friend," she said quietly. "I can't have you go and die on me. Of course I'll do it. They'll let me off for two weeks, I haven't taken vacation in two years."

They hugged. Tomo gave Yomi a sincere smile. "Thanks. You have no idea how grateful I am. I'll see myself out – I've got to go talk to everyone else." She closed the door behind her.

And chuckled, evilly, as she got to the ground floor – and pressed every single elevator button on the way out. Hey, sincerity can only last so long.

"One down," she said to herself, striding down the busy Tokyo street to the train station. "Four to go."

* * *

Author's notes: 

Thanks for so many reviews already! Don't worry, the plot'll flesh out soon – this is gonna be a long one, but I've already got chunks of it written.

FYI – I'll mention it in a bit, but this takes place six years after high school graduation.

Next installment: What are the other four girls up to these days? And can Tomo get them to join the cause? Of course she can.


	3. Yukari Plans a Trip

_Three weeks previously:_

"Nyamo! NYAMOOOOO!"

Minamo Morimoto, nee Kurosawa, aka Nyamo, put her head in her hands and sighed as her colleague (and, for some bizarre reason, best friend) slammed a paper down on her desk. "WHAT, Yukari?"

"Look! I just got this e-mail! It's a special vacation deal! Let's go, let's go, let's goooo!"

Minamo glanced at the paper. "That's junk mail, Yukari."

"No, no it's not! I checked! There's no fine print or anything. They're not going to try to sell us a timeshare or something – this is the real deal! Come on, summer break's in three weeks and we still haven't figured out where we're going!"

"What do you mean, we?"

"I mean, you and me. I mean, let's ditch the guys and have a girls-only vacation! Just like the old days at whatshername's place, that little rich kid…"

"Chiyo-chan," Minamo supplied.

"Yeah, her. What do you say?"

The two high school teachers regarded each other. Minamo, always much more mature than her friend, had grown up even more in the last six years – the PE teacher had married a great guy, bought a house, and taken on other adult responsibilities with ease, while Yukari, married less than a year ago to Nyamo's husband's obnoxious best friend, was still complaining about having to share her apartment space and toothpaste with "some guy." Minamo was still driving Yukari to work every day and still resenting it. However, it WAS better than letting Yukari drive herself. Keeping Yukari away from the driver's seat was tantamount to saving lives.

But would a vacation with her insane best friend be such a bad thing? She'd been feeling stodgy lately. Too many quiet nights at home with Daisuke, cooking dinner and watching game shows – and while Daisuke was the sweetest guy you could ever meet, he wasn't exactly Mister Excitement. She wasn't Mrs. Excitement, for that matter. Which is why a week or two of complete immaturity might do her some good.

She looked at the printout. Surprisingly, it didn't read like spam. It looked like a genuine offer – an offer too good to refuse. "The Beautiful Island Resort of Iyaman," she read. And grinned at Yukari. "Hey, why not? The guys can spare us for a week."

* * *

Notes:

I LOVE ALL OF YOU! With many exclamation points! I'm having a great time writing this, I'm swimming in reviews, and I am a happy, happy writer! Yay!

I didn't mean to post this bit till after Chapter 3, but Chapter 3's not quite done yet, and someone was asking about the teachers - so here they are, haplessly heading into danger.

I had to marry off the teachers - it's six years after graduation, and with the whole Japanese marry-young sensibility and Episode 19 dialogue, they must have obtained some husbands by now. Although I didn't want to marry them off because I wanted them to keep their last names... But now that I think about it, I'd love to see what Yukari's husband is like. Maybe he'll show up! One never knows. :)


	4. Getting the Band Back Together, Part 2

On the way to the train station, Tomo stopped by a small bookshop and picked up a slender mint-green paperback – she already had the hardcover, of course, but the paperback had come out while she was in France. Once she'd gotten her ticket and settled in on the train – it wouldn't be a long ride – she checked out the string of quotes on the back.

Praise for _Sleeping In: Six Stories_

"_Supremely bizarre." - Asahi Shimbun_

"_Dreamy, lyrical." - Mainichi Daily News_

"_One of the most creative new voices in science fiction… Wait, is this even supposed to be science fiction?" - Osaka Globe_

Tomo flipped through the book. Good font, cover design wasn't bad, and they'd incorporated the prize nomination on the front cover in a tasteful manner. Of course, she didn't need to read the actual book. She'd watched the book take form in college, on her roommate's computer screen; she'd been one of the informal editors – they all had, e-mailing chunks of the text back and forth with praise and suggestions; and she'd been right in the front at the author's first reading and book-signing, yelling at the top of her lungs till Kagura slugged her shoulder hard, and Yomi threatened to put her in a chokehold.

And despite spending so much time with the six stories in the book…

…she still didn't know how Osaka's mind worked.

* * *

"Oh, hi, Tomo," Osaka said. She'd answered the door of her little apartment in a sundress and the penguin slippers Chiyo had mailed them all for Christmas last year. She hadn't changed a bit. Same hair, same cheerfully distracted expression. Although Tomo did expect her to be a LITTLE surprised that she'd just arrived unannounced from France. "Nice jumpsuit. Were ya skiing before you got here?"

"Uh… no. It's summer. How the heck are you?" She frowned. "Yomi called you, didn't she?"

"Yep," Osaka said. "Come on in, I've got lemonade all ready. It's pink," she added.

"Pink is good," Tomo said, and sat in one of Osaka's polka-dotted overstuffed chairs. "The paperback turned out really nice, I thought."

"Ya got one!" Osaka said, delighted. "Want me to sign it?" After handing Tomo the pink lemonade, she pulled out a pen, took the book – and frowned. "What should I sign?"

"Uh. Your name. That's kind of how it works. And you ought to add something personal, like 'To Tomo, without whom I couldn't have written a single word because she is just so inspiring.'"

"I mean, it's weird. All my friends call me Osaka, but not my parents, which makes sense 'cause they're from Osaka too and then they'd hafta call themselves Osaka, and that'd be really confusing," she speculated. "So it's still weird signing 'Ayumu Kasuga' in all my books. Like the people who read my book aren't my friends."

"Um. They're not," Tomo said. The lemonade was good. Also very pink. "They're just people who read your book."

Osaka gave her a look. That was a new look. Her usual space-cadet gaze was starting to get layers to it. _We're adults. What's with that?_ Tomo thought, not for the first time that day.

"If they read it, they kind of are my friends," Osaka said. "I dunno, it's just sort of like that." She signed, _To Tomo, for giving me ideas. Osaka._

"Sooo…." Tomo decided she was going to hastily change the subject, before she was forced to be sincere twice in one day. "What did Yomi tell you?"

"She said Interpol put ya in charge of some spy sort of thing. She told me all about it, but I can't remember all the details."

"Does that girl just not know the meaning of the word 'classified'?" Tomo grumbled. "Okay, what else did she say?"

"She said there was some sort of weird plan about getting all six of us from high school involved."

"Yeah, and what else?"

"She said it was a really stupid plan," Osaka said cheerfully. "She said it was one of the dumbest things you've come up with in a long time. She said she didn't know why Interpol was putting up with it."

"Oh, so that's what she said," Tomo said, darkly. She'd half a mind to go back to Yomi's building and set off the sprinklers on the fifteenth floor. "Anything else I should know about?"

"She said she was gonna do it," Osaka said. "So I'm gonna do it too." Her brow knit. "So what are we doing?"

* * *

Notes:

I was going to have Tomo go get Kagura and Sakaki too in this chapter, but I'm stuck on writing their parts, so Osaka has this chapter all to herself. Osaka being a writer has a lot to do with her creative nature; yes, it does have something to do with other authors on here making her a writer, which really works; but mostly it's because she's my favorite character, so I gave her my dream job. :)


	5. Getting the Band Back Together, Part 3

Kagura, by arrangement with her building manager, had the complex pool to herself from 3 to 5 pm every Thursday. It wasn't a good pool – far too small and overchlorinated – and her coach would have fainted rather than suggest she practice in it. Which is why she didn't tell her coach her building had a pool at all.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. She hit the wall, flipped in a graceful motion and started another easy lap, this time using the backstroke. No pressure. No coach. No clock. Just her, and the water. Here, she competed against no one except herself.

It was relaxing.

Training for the Olympics was a full-time job, especially less than a year before the Summer Games – four years ago she'd left college to train full-time for the last Olympics, and the result was a bronze and, it seemed, a career. Prize money paid for her pool time, her equipment, her trainer's exorbitant salary. Oh yeah, and food and shelter. Now it was gold or bust…

…except the competition wasn't as much fun as it used to be.

It had started after the Olympics. The sports media had ended up fascinated with the young Japanese phenom, with her brash competitive nature and her love of mugging for the camera (her favorite shot, from a _Sports Illustrated_ profile, showed her grinning and giving a thumbs-up, headlined "YAY!"), and she'd just gotten better and better. Neither had endeared her to other swimmers. Her outstretched hand and congratulatory "Good job!" to the vanquished competitors was often met with a cold stare. It seems that the higher up the sports ladder one went, the more attitude problems one encountered.

It wasn't right! Kagura lived and breathed competition, and knew everyone else did too – but competition was supposed to be a good-natured matching of skill against skill, not tinged with envy and dislike. Her coach thought the same way her competitors did. "Think of them as enemies," he'd said. She didn't want enemies! She wanted rivals. Skilled, talented people she could thoroughly beat, and then go out for drinks with afterward. People like –

"YAAAAAAHHHHH!" SPLOOOSH.

Kagura knew that voice. She also knew that splash. There was absolutely NO way –

"Heya, knucklehead!" Tomo shouted, jumping up onto Kagura's shoulders and nearly drowning her in the process.

Kagura came up spluttering. "What the – Tomo, you total numbnut! What in the…" She took off her goggles. Yeah, it was Tomo, grinning like a madwoman. Kagura grinned back –

and dunked her friend.

Tomo came up coughing. Kagura was laughing. "You idiot! You still wear your swimsuit under your clothes? What a numbnut!"

"It's a numbnut reunion!" said another cheerful voice.

"Don't call us numbnuts, Osaka! – Hey, hi, Osaka!" Osaka waved, feet dangling in the shallow end. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Long story," Tomo said, splashing her friend for no good reason. "But let me set you straight, senor. We're knuckleheads, not numbnuts."

"Excuse me? I think we're numbnuts," Kagura said, splashing back. "That's what we've always said."

Tomo splashed back harder. "I believe you're mistaken. It's 'knuckleheads,' not 'numbnuts.'"

Splash. "Numbnuts!"

"Yeah, which one is it?" Osaka wondered.

Splash. "Knuckleheads!"

Splash. "Numbnuts!"

"Hey! Maybe it's 'knucklenuts,'" Osaka said.

The girls in the pool stopped their splash-fight and stared. "Huh," Tomo said. "That's not bad."

* * *

Hugo paced the waiting room, oblivious of the knucklenut reunion that had just walked in, cheerfully bickering. He was excited, of course – expectant fathers will be – but also worried. It was Serena's first pregnancy. What if something went wrong? What if – 

Oh dear. There was the doctor now, walking towards him, her face hard to read. She knelt down with a rustle of lab coat, and looked Hugo in the eye.

"Congratulations," Dr. Sakaki said. "It's a girl, three boys, and another girl."

Hugo yowled happily. "That's wonderful!" exclaimed his person, Megumi. "And their coloring?"

"Seal point," Sakaki said solemnly.

"Oh, fantastic!" breathed Megumi. She'd trust no one else but Sakaki with the health of her prized show Siamese. "Come on, sweetie, let's go see your babies!" Megumi scooped up Hugo and followed Sakaki into the back. Sakaki came out a moment later and stood in front of her three friends.

"Hi," she said quietly, peeling off her thick biteproof gloves. "Good to see you."

Tomo, Kagura, and Osaka grinned. That greeting was the equivalent of a squeal and a bear hug from their taciturn friend.

Kagura smiled but said nothing. Sakaki had been her high school rival, and after so many frustrating sports defeats at Sakaki's hands, Kagura was damn well going to win the first-haircut-compliment competition.

"Your hair's different," Sakaki said, observing Kagura's new cropped style, a pixie-ish cut designed to fit neatly under her swim cap, that had the surprising effect of making the tomboyish athlete look more, not less, feminine. "It looks nice."

_Hehe, I win!_ Kagura thought. It didn't matter that Sakaki was completely unaware that there was a contest. "Yours looks good too," she said as a concession to the loser. Sakaki's dramatic long hair was now cut in layers, with soft wisps framing her face.

"Yeah, yeah, we're all hot chicks, look at us," Tomo said impatiently. "Sakaki, I've gotta tell you something important…"

"Yomi called," Sakaki said. "I already know."

Tomo smacked herself in the forehead.

"Toldja," Osaka said.

"Just for two weeks, right?" Sakaki said. "There's something I've got to do."

* * *

Dr. Takuya knew Sakaki well. And, as any man in his right mind would be, he was also desperately in love with her – ever since her third week at the clinic, when she'd spent three icy-calm hours in surgery removing several feet of string from the stomach of a deathly ill kitten, and then sobbed in relief when the patient came out of the anesthetic, meowed, and nibbled her hand. The stoic demeanor hid one of the warmest hearts he'd ever encountered. 

Whatever he'd hoped for, though, he was stunned when she walked silently into his office and dropped keys on his desk.

"House keys," she explained, in her telegraphic way. "I'm gone for two weeks. Watch Maya?"

Takuya knew and liked Maya – the big, beautifully patterned cat, some sort of cross-breed, was disdainful of most people but adored Sakaki, and she often brought him to the office, where Takuya had actually taught him to fetch (there was some Siamese in there, he wagered). "Uhh… okay?"

"Good." She gave him a rare smile and had absolutely no idea it was going to make him slightly dizzy for about a week. "Maya likes you." With that, she turned and was gone.

Takuya sat and stared at the door for several minutes, turning the apartment keys over and over in his hands. Could he possibly dare to hope…?

No. The only man Sakaki could love would be a man who loved cats as much as she did. And Takuya was a dog person. Bond with Maya all he liked, he'd still be a dog person. He sighed mournfully for a love that could never be.

* * *

"So, did you notice how your friend there was looking at you when you asked him to watch Maya?" Kagura said, grinning. "He's totally got the hots for you." 

Sakaki stared at her feet and blushed madly. "Haha! You like him! Come on, Sakaki, tell us what you think of him…"

Sakaki continued to examine her shoes. "…He's a dog person. But…" she added, very quietly, "he's cute."

The five girls stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Oh wow," Osaka breathed. "You're gonna get married, aren't you?"

Tomo waved her arms madly. "No time, no time for that!"

"But we're only twenty-four," Osaka said, bewildered.

"No, I mean, we don't have time to stand around and talk about guys. We've got to have a briefing – "

"You mean you're gonna explain what we're doing?" Kagura said.

"That's what I said," Tomo said. "Except I'm an Interpol agent so it's a briefing. Anyway, we need to be ready to leave for San Francisco first thing tomorrow.

"Brush up on your English, ladies! We've got one more person to pick up."

* * *

_Meanwhile, over the South Pacific…_

The plane was small and noisy, but very comfortable. Nyamo imagined it as what first class on a jumbo jet would be like. Big leather seats, attentive flight attendants, hors d'oeuvres of many nations (takoyaki!), and, unfortunately, free sake. "Unfortunate" and "free sake" didn't usually go together in Nyamo's mind, and especially not this sake, she thought as she sipped the delicate wine – unless Yukari was around.

Yukari had taken the opportunity to get schnockered on the free booze, and was currently sharing a raucous laugh with the English-speaking couple sitting across from them. The fair-haired, middle-aged husband and wife were either Danish or enjoyed filled breakfast pastries, from what Nyamo could make out. (Nyamo had learned a little more English over the years – with an emphasis on memorizing phrases such as "She is crazy" and "Please do not listen to what my friend says".)

"Thank you for flying Iyaman Airlines. We will be landing shortly. Please place your tray tables in an upright position…" The announcement was repeated in four languages. Yukari turned to Nyamo with a mad grin.

"Vacation! This is so great! I hear we're some of the first people who get to see this new resort. I wonder, are drinks included in the package?"

"Let's hope not," Nyamo muttered, slapping Yukari's hand to stop her fiddling with the tray table locking mechanism.

"Awww, Nyamo, you're such an old lady… Hey! Look! We're landing! We're gonna crash! Aaaaaaaaaa... No, wait, we're not! We're not gonna crash!"

"Please do not listen to what my friend says," Nyamo said pleasantly to the Danish couple, who were looking alarmed at Yukari's random shrieking.

The plane touched down – and before people could start reaching for their luggage in the overhead bins, the flight attendants started gently guiding them off the plane. "Your vacation starts now. We'll bring your luggage to your rooms," they said.

"Wow, now that's service. Okay… fun in the sun, here we… Wait. What?"

Yukari stopped at the top of the exit stairs, looking out at the tarmac. Nyamo peered over her shoulder. The scenery was indeed beautiful, with lush palm trees and colorful ground foliage on either side of the runway…

…but on the runway, there were about fifteen men. In black. With guns.

A flight attendant gave Nyamo a rude shove from behind. She and Yukari staggered down the stairway, along with the rest of the astonished passengers. Several people tried their cell phones, and cursed at the lack of signal. The attendants, now much less friendly and armed with pistols, herded the thirty passengers past the serious men in black to stand in front of another man, this one in sunglasses and an impeccable grey suit.

"Welcome, hostages," he said in elegant Japanese, gesturing expansively, "to my island paradise."

* * *

Notes: 

The motto of this chapter: NEVER LET YOUR CAT EAT STRING! Ever! Also, you CAN train Siamese cats to fetch.

Kagura and Sakaki are the two hardest characters for me to write, because I'm not athletic, I'm not driven, and I'm definitely not quiet. Hope they turned out okay.

The credit for the bit about the "knucklenuts" goes to the Boy (my fiance). Thank you, Boy, for giving me ideas!

Next chapter: Academics, Denny's and karaoke in San Francisco!


	6. Takino's Six

_The next afternoon – University of California at Berkeley_

Notes? Check. Sedate slacks, blouse and jacket? Check. Very high heels? Check. Deep breathing? Check.

Sleek, sophisticated ponytail? Unfortunately, check.

Chiyo hated lecturing. She was often asked to do it, she was good at it, and any student signing up for one of her guest lectures just to see the famous Girl Professor was usually surprised at how interesting and informative her talks were. But public speaking was not her forte – it never had been. And in order to get any respect, she had to take down the pigtails.

She loved her pigtails. They were one of the ways she held on to her youth in the stodgy halls of American academia – she did enjoy being Dr. Mihama, expert in several fields, but despite her massive intellect, she'd always felt most comfortable acting her age.

Which was, at this point, nineteen. And she wasn't going to give up being nineteen for anything. Back at Berkeley for her fourth Ph.D. after some time at Yale and MIT, she and Mr. Tadakichi had gotten a place in the city with her undergrad girlfriends Michelle and Aviva, now in their twenties and gainfully employed. They and Chiyo spent their evenings at movies, concerts, and parties (Chiyo didn't mind being designated driver), or just happily hanging out. San Francisco was a good city to be nineteen in.

And one thing she liked about America was that cute was currently hip. So were pigtails. So was being Japanese. All she had to do upon arriving at Berkeley six years ago was, at her roommate Michelle's suggestion, add chunky glasses and chunky shoes to her usual wardrobe of pigtails, jeans and tiny, cute cartoon-character T-shirts… and she immediately went from Chiyo-chan, small child, to Chiyo, teenage uber-hipster. Although the "-chan" got added back once the girls in the dorm accepted the tiny prodigy as their unofficial little sister and mascot.

Michelle and Aviva were in the back of the packed auditorium, for moral support – Chiyo gave them a grateful glance as she continued her lecture on Properties of Bioreactive Polymers. Wait. Who were those other girls sitting next to them…?

"_A-choi!" _

Heads turned to the back row. "Was that supposed to be a sneeze?" someone muttered. Chiyo beamed with utter delight.

* * *

"Thank you all, please e-mail me with any questions concerning the lecture!" Chiyo bellowed after the applause died down, scrawling her school e-mail address on the chalkboard and dashing past the girls who were waiting to ask her intelligent questions and the boys who were waiting to ask her out. 

"Eeeee! You're here you're here you're here! You're all here!"

"I'm not here!" Tomo said gleefully.

"Oh yes you are!" Chiyo said, just as delighted. "Oh my god! Yomi emailed me and said you were coming, but she didn't say when! I thought you'd call first…"

"Wow, you look older," Kagura said. "You look like an actual professor. I can't believe we haven't seen you in nearly two years…."

"Yomi, Yomi, Yomi," Tomo sighed. "You went and told EVERYONE. Some super-spy, senor!"

"Well, YOU didn't tell me not to tell anyone, 'super-spy,'" Yomi said smugly. "You're just disappointed you couldn't surprise people when you showed up. And of course I had to give Chiyo-chan the details. We can't do this without her."

"Of course you can't," Chiyo said. "I looked over the email Yomi sent me, then I called up Director Bundig and she sent me the mission overview… You'll need me. And I'm bringing Mr. Tadakichi." She grinned her wide, innocent grin, undid her sleek ponytail, and did her hair back in her usual pigtails – more auburn and much lower than they used to be, gathered just under each ear, but still pigtails. Everyone breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. "Yay! We get to be spies!"

"Shhh, not so loud!" Tomo hissed. "We've got civilians here!" She glanced over at Michelle and Aviva. "…Oh." Chiyo's American roommates stood at the side, wearing pleased but confused expressions. They'd met Chiyo's high school friends before, and now, as then, the only word they'd understood in the entire conversation was "Tadakichi-san".

Sheesh, thought Chiyo. Americans. Acting like there's only one language in the world. But hey, why not have some fun with everyone before the six of us go off and possibly get shot? "Who's up for Denny's and karaoke?" she said in English, and the eight girls, chattering in two languages, went off to catch the train to San Francisco.

* * *

_The following day_

When the limo pulled up in front of the Hyatt in the morning, Liesl had informed the team that they were headed to a secret special-forces training facility deep inside Mount Diablo. Tomo figured that with a name like Mount Diablo, there'd be electrified fences involved, maybe blindfolding to hide the location, definitely a moat of lava.

Not lunch at a pleasant outdoor café in the pretty town of Walnut Creek, followed by a run to Nordstrom's to pick out the workout wear they'd be sporting for their three days of spy training. Chiyo had bought some socks with penguins on them, and Sakaki and Yomi had to forcibly drag the ICPO Assistant Director of Police Services away from the Kate Spade bags. Liesl was still sulking in the limo on the way to the training facility, muttering in German about things being forty percent off. Kagura was looking out the window at the rich green Northern California hills, exclaiming about the scenery being differing degrees of awesome. Osaka was still obsessed with lunch.

"Turuki sandawichu!"

"Okay," said Tomo brightly. It was time for her to Take Charge. "Now we need to do something crucial to the success of every sexy superspy!"

"Plan our mission?" Yomi said.

"Get some neat spy gear?" Kagura said.

"Turuki sandawichu!" Osaka said, proudly brandishing the half smoked-turkey-on-sourdough.

"No, no, no. We need to come up with our…" dramatic pause… "code names! We're going to be Takino's Six, because I like the movie 'Ocean's Eleven,' and I'm the boss and the actual spy. Also, my code name is Phoenix," Tomo added, with a defiant glare at Yomi, who wasn't even bothering trying to stifle her laughter.

"Why 'Phoenix'?" Chiyo said, slightly confused. "A phoenix dies and then rises dramatically from its own ashes… so does that mean you're going to fail and then suddenly succeed? Or…"

"It's 'cause I'm on FIRE, baybee."

Tomo smirked. No further questions were asked, although Yomi muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "moron".

"I'll be 'Dolphin', that's easy," Kagura said. Sakaki shivered and glanced at Osaka, hoping that whatever she said next, it wouldn't involve hemorrhoids. Luckily all she said was "Turuki sandawichu!"

"I've already kind of got a code name," Chiyo-chan supplied. "You guys ever read about the EOEE database? The one that crashed last year?"

"The Everything-About-Everyone-Everywhere Project?" Liesl said, emerging from her purse-related sulk. "The U.S. government hardly got started on that thing before someone took it down. Good thing, too, because it would have nearly eliminated personal privacy… but don't tell the President I said that. Our cyber-crimes people still haven't found the hacker… Silly nickname. Something about a penguin?"

"Pengy," Chiyo said.

Liesl locked eyes with the teen genius. "Oh no. I am NOT in a car with one of the world's most wanted hackers…"

"I like to have interesting things to do in my spare time," Chiyo said cheerfully. And pulled a sheaf of papers out of her pink backpack, dropping them on the clipboard on Liesl's lap. "I had my lawyer draw up an amnesty agreement, contingent on the successful rescue of the hostages. You don't have to read it now," she said helpfully, noting Liesl's eyes bugging out slightly as she stared at the mound of legalese.

"Turuki sandawichu!"

Sakaki was barely paying attention. She was watching the hills roll by, one of them growing larger and larger – was this Mount Diablo? It didn't look much like a mountain, and it definitely didn't look diabolic. Houses clung to the lower reaches, oaks and conifers blanketed the rest till the gentle summit. The moat of lava that Tomo'd warned them about was nowhere in sight. In fact, the whole area was nothing short of idyllic, now that they were out in the country. Sakaki wondered if there were any wildcats native to California…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tomo. "Hey! Sakaki! Thought of a code name yet?"

Actually, she had. She blushed. It was a little embarrassing…

"I've got a few ideas," Tomo said. "How about 'Panther'? You're like a panther. You're all, like, dark and stalking things."

"No," said Sakaki.

"How about 'Raven'? Ravens are cool. It'd go with your hair," Tomo said.

"No."

"Well, what, then?"

"Necoconeco," said Sakaki.

"WHAT the...? NECOCONECO! That's the worst spy name I've ever heard! What are the bad guys gonna say, 'Oh no, they've sent in Necoconeco, we're doomed!'?"

"Necoconeco," Sakaki said, firmly.

"Tiger?"

"Necoconeco."

"Cheetah?"

Sakaki thought. "Necoconeco."

"How about just 'Cat'?" Tomo said, desperate. "Like a cat-burglar. Cats are silent and sneaky. They come up behind you and go 'Rowrrr!' when you least expect it... Rowr, rowr!" She clawed the air. "Rowwwrr! I'm the Cat, international super-spy!"

Then Tomo froze in mid-"rowr" under Sakaki's stare. Her friend wasn't buying it. She sighed. There was no help for it.

"...and cats are also very, very cute," she added.

"Fine," said Sakaki.

"Turuki sandawichu!" Osaka was still brandishing the uneaten half of her lunch.

"Shut up, Osaka!" Tomo had had enough with the turkey sandwich. She turned to Yomi with a demonic smirk. "And you, my friend, you can be... Elephant… or maybe Hippo…"

"Or maybe," Yomi said quietly, "I can tell everyone that sophomore-year story about the beer, the drama club, and the nasturtiums."

"Ooo, that's a good one!" said Osaka, Tomo's former college roommate, who had seen the whole thing.

Tomo blushed angrily. She now knew how Yukari felt when Nyamo would call her on something stupid she'd done in the past. Blackmail, that's what it was. Sheer blackmail.

"I'm going to be what I want to be," Yomi said quietly. ":And I'm gonna be Dragonfly."

"Why…"

"I like dragonflies." Yomi's expression dared Tomo to try and make something of it. She wasn't about to admit that it was because dragonflies were skinny.

Tomo sighed. She wasn't going to argue with Yomi this time. The nasturtium story was REALLY embarrassing. "Okay, Osaka. Your turn." Osaka opened her mouth to speak – "And you are NOT going to be 'turkey sandwich'!" The space cadet looked disappointed. "You have to be an animal."

"Why?"

"Because it's traditional. You're either a number or an animal, if you're a super-spy with a code name."

"I can't think of a good number," Osaka said. "Is a sea cucumber an animal? 'Cause if it is, I could be Sea Cucumber…"

"NO!" everyone shouted in unison.

The limo was pulling up in front of a gate. A perfectly normal fence, maybe a little higher than usual, with a perfectly normal motorized gate. Liesl rolled down the window and handed a card to the middle-aged security guard, who nodded and opened the gate for them. The limo slowly rolled on…

"Now," Tomo said, her voice lowered to a dramatic whisper, "we shall witness… the Secret of Mount Diablo!"

Yomi opened her mouth to shoot back a retort about how the Secret of Mount Diablo probably consisted of a garage… when she noticed that the road ended abruptly in the side of the mountain. The limo wasn't slowing down. She grasped the upholstery anxiously.

"Watch this," Liesl said, and pulled a small black device from her purse (a Coach purse, Yomi noted). She pressed a button. Part of the mountain opened inward – a perfectly disguised door, leading into the depths of who knows what…

"Wow," Kagura said. "There really IS a Secret of Mount Diablo."

"There are more secrets inside," Liesl said, her German accent adding an ominous tone to the words.

"What about my code name?" Osaka said.

"We'll get to that," breathed Tomo, as the limo rolled into the darkness, and into the real beginning of their adventure.

* * *

Notes: 

The Denny's in question is in SF's Japantown, just above the karaoke bar. Or below, I can't remember.

I don't know how a Japanese person whose English isn't that great (Osaka never really got the hang of it) would attempt to pronounce "turkey sandwich", so I just took a wild guess.

Liesl's expensive-purse obsession is an homage to one of my professors.


	7. preview: Tactical Azumanga Action

(Author's note: This chapter's about half done, but I wanted to post it - I'm back in a writing mood again and will have the complete chapter up in a few days - followed by - gasp! - more chapters. Yay, writing is fun and occupies free time!)

* * *

_Contra Costa County, CA - Mount Diablo Training Facility_

"I'm afraid there's no time for a tour," Liesl said, briskly leading the team (_we're a team!_ Chiyo thought, excited) through low-ceilinged, bare, and otherwise intimidating military corridors, past American military personnel, some of whom stopped dead in their duties to stare at the sudden influx of young cute Japanese women. "You're to start your training immediately."

"First we rest a little?" said Osaka hopefully - she really needed to lie down for a while. The mayo on the turuki sandawichu was not agreeing with her.

"Unfortunately, no," Liesl said. As they went deeper into the complex, they passed closed doors with strange sounds – shooting was one of the most common ones – coming from behind. Muscular, grim-faced Special Forces soldiers strode grimly by. "The consultants who'll be training you are already here, and the hostages aren't getting any more rescued. So we're beginning immediately."

"Can I at least go to the bath-"

"Immediately," Liesl said, and stopped walking abruptly. Only Tomo's quick footwork prevented the Humorous Domino Effect. The girls glanced around. They'd stopped in a large, nondescript room, with only a punching bag or two and a couple mats on the floor to identify it as a gym.

"I'll be back in three hours to show you your rooms. Have fun with the guns," Liesl said. "He likes guns." With a wink, she closed the door.

"Guns…?" said Sakaki, weakly.

"Three hours…?" said Osaka, weakly.

* * *

Footsteps approached. As the door opened, the girls all felt strangely alarmed, a feeling which only increased when a dark, brawny, unshaven man in fatigues and a bandanna entered the room. 

"Why do I suddenly feel like I should have a red exclamation point over my head?" Osaka wondered aloud.

The man laughed a short, humorless laugh. "Girls. They told me you were all young and all civilians, but they didn't say you were all girls." His gruff Japanese, while not bad, had a strong American accent. "Well, not a problem, I can work with - Hey, what's a kid doing here?"

He'd stopped in front of Chiyo. She looked up - and up - and gave him a glare that the other girls knew well. Kagura and Yomi, on either side of Chiyo, stepped away slightly.

"I'm Chiyo Mihama and I am NOT a kid," Chiyo said angrily. "I'm nineteen years old, I can't help it if I'm short, and I'm a visiting professor at Berkeley. I've got three Ph.D's. Do YOU have three Ph.D's?"

"Uh - "

"Which is why I go by DOCTOR Mihama." She glared again. "Who am I?"

The big soldier seemed taken aback by the sheer force of Chiyo's pint-sized rage. "...Doctor Mihama?"

"Good," said Chiyo smugly.

"Dr. Mihama? Chiyo Mihama?" said another voice, excitedly. A second man entered the room, much less imposing and wearing glasses. He was taken aback when he saw Chiyo. "My god! I've read your papers. I thought you were forty!" His Japanese was flawless.

"Well, I'm not. Who are you?"

"Hal Emmerich. I actually used your work on bioreactive polymers to build a - "

"Hal Emmerich?" squealed Chiyo. "I did one of my theses based on your optics work. I thought you were dead!" They grinned and shook hands in mad-science solidarity.

"Wait," said Tomo. "If you're Hal Emmerich... your code name's Otacon, right? ... then you're the mission support guy for..."

"Yup," said Solid Snake, raspy voice dripping with sarcasm. "The Legend in the flesh." He hated that nickname.

Tomo stared at the world-famous tactical espionage agent for a fraction of a second. Then she let out a joyful shriek. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE! I'm gonna get trained by Solid Snake! I'm gonna get trained by Solid Snake!" She started jumping up and down.

"And that's..."

"Tomo Takino," Yomi confirmed. "Interpol's latest recruit and our fearless leader. And yes, she's always like this."

("How much are we getting paid for this?" Snake hissed to Otacon, in English.

"A lot."

"Isn't there a Metal Gear we could blow up instead?"

"Not at the moment.")

Snake grunted. War, he reflected, is hell, but peace can be just as bad.

* * *

Snake sized up the six girls. Their specialties were practically written on their faces. Amateurs, but with potential. 

"Okay. Kiddo, Four-eyes and Space Cadet, you're with him on mission support to start," Snake growled. "Strong and Silent, Tomboy and Knucklenut, you're with me on combat techniques."

"I am NOT Knucklenut!" Tomo protested. "My code name is Phoenix. Phoenix! And that's Cat and Dolphin, and Pengy and Dragonfly..."

"I wanted to be Sea Cucumber, but they wouldn't let me," Osaka said. "What does Otacon mean, anyway?"

"Otaku Convention. I'm not proud," the techie said.

"Hehe," said Tomo, with that ominous gleeful glint in her eye. "Then Solid Snake has gotta be..."

"No," said Yomi, firmly. "Tomo. Don't go there."

"But it's so obvious..."

"TOMO. Do NOT go there. This is rated PG."

"Keep in mind, I can also knock you out with one punch," Snake added.

"Ah, crud," said Tomo, resigned.

_more chapter to follow!_

_

* * *

_

More notes:

- If this isn't the only Azumanga Daioh/Metal Gear Solid crossover out there, then it's one of the very, very few. The way it happened was the way crossovers usually happen... I've got these two favorite fandoms at the moment, they have nothing in common, and so why not do the fangirliest thing possible and combine 'em? Actually, "why not?" is the reason this whole story's being written in the first place.

- Don't worry, the crossover will be short, then the girls will go do their spy thing on the Island Fortress of the Villain I Haven't Thought of a Name For Yet. But Snake and Otacon are entertaining guys, so you don't need to have a clue about Metal Gear to enjoy the training interlude. Although I should mention that the red exclamation points appear over guards' heads when they spot Snake sneaking around. It's kind of cute, actually.

- I apologize for the long hiatus. Real life, you know. It can getcha.


End file.
